


Just Ask

by AgentInfinity



Series: Sexcapades: A Love Story [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: A little, Aftercare, BDSM, Begging, Bondage, Choking, Collars, Cunnilingus, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Kink Exploration, Orgasm Denial, Painplay, Spanking, Vaginal Sex, it's on the thighs, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29156307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentInfinity/pseuds/AgentInfinity
Summary: I can't justaskfor things.  That'd be too easy.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Sexcapades: A Love Story [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1264571
Kudos: 6





	Just Ask

“If you want something, ask for it.”

I am sitting in the kitchen eating cereal and watching as my husband fries his eggs and sips coffee, shirtless and messy-haired like I prefer.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He looks over at me and fixes me with a look so unimpressed that I have to laugh. “Jesus, what the fuck did I do to you?” He smirks the world’s smallest smirk and turns back to his eggs.

“Nothing. You’re just staring holes into my back, and your cereal is going soggy while you attempt to make my dick jealous of that spoon.” I remove the spoon from my mouth and place it back in my (soggy) Honey Bunches of Oats.

“And what does that have to do with anything? I’m just admiring my husband, with whom I am still enamored even after a decade of marriage.”

“Jesus christ,” he snorts. He scoops his eggs out onto a plate and dumps an alarming amount of pepper on them.

“A love that is not dampened by the many peppery crimes against food I have witnessed by your hands over the years.” I stand up and press myself against his back, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my face into his back. He smells faintly of his body wash and the clean laundry smell of the fresh sheets we slept on last night. And something distinctly _him_ that I’ve never been able to pin down. It’s relaxing and warm and home. He rubs his palm across my forearm as he eats, standing at the counter like a heathen that doesn’t know how to slow down even on his days off.

“I love how you can’t stop the words tumbling out of your mouth sometimes.” I let go and move to face him. He doesn’t move, though, so I end up staring at the side of his face as he chews.

“I don’t make fun of your weaknesses.”

_”Peppery crimes against food.”_

“Fine.” I steal his coffee and finish it. It’s black, no sugar at all, but it hits the spot all the same. “I’m gonna go get dressed. I have to run some errands before I pick our boy up this afternoon.” For the first time in months, our son had gone to stay with his grandparents, I had a weekend off, and my husband didn’t have any freelance work until his evening meeting. So, we had stayed up late watching our favorite Nightmare on Elm Street films, fucked until about 3 AM, and slept in until 11 o’clock.

“No, you’re not gonna get dressed.”

“Oh?” He eats his last bite and puts the plate in the sink. Then he _does_ turn to me and places a finger under my chin until I’m looking him in the face.

“You’re going to strip down and go wait patiently on the bed for me. I want to make the most of our alone time.” I am instantly throbbing for him, but I really do not want to take my son on the errands I have to do.

“I really do have to run out.”

“My meeting was rescheduled, so if I go and pick him up by myself, you can run your errands alone.” His hand snakes down and wraps around my neck, squeezing lightly.

“Oh,” I breathe out. “That’ll work.”

“You should do what I asked you to do now.” My brain has gone a bit foggy, and I don’t immediately move. “Color?” He takes his hand off my neck and raises his eyebrows.

“Green,” I say on instinct. I typically want whatever he offers, and I’ve been slightly wet since he rolled out of bed and slipped into the sweatpants that highlighted his gorgeous ass. I also thought I was hiding that fact. I was not, however, hiding the fact that I was annoying him on purpose. He replaces his hand on my neck and squeezes tighter on the sides. His other hand slides into my hair, tilting my head back. I will always be undone by the way he can look at me like he can pierce my skull and see the thoughts that all the neurons and synapses in my brain are firing into existence.

“I’m fairly sure I told you to strip and go wait for me on the bed.” I carefully slide my panties down my hips and let them fall to the floor without moving my head, as it is still being held fast in the neck-and-hair-hold that I so love. The pressure is building behind my eyes and the dizziness is making itself known. He lets go of my neck and the buzzing that had started up in my ears vanishes as I continue to stare at him stupidly. He smiles and releases my hair as well.

“Shirt too, baby,” He crosses his arms and waits for me to step out of my panties completely and slide my shirt off and drop it on the floor as well.

He reaches a finger out and traces the infinity symbol on the day collar sitting at the hollow of my neck, smiling faintly.

Kink is not new to us, but it has always stayed in the bedroom, until a few months ago. He was feeling unmoored. Teaching in a pandemic, much like any job in a pandemic I suppose, is unpredictable and ever-changing, which is not good for someone who relies on medications and routines to stay mentally grounded. His freelance work had, at first, remained unchanged, but dried up during the summer, historically one of his busiest consulting times. His summer classes had all been canceled, and with me back in school and working full time, he began to feel lost.

As for me, a healthcare worker and new grad student on new psych meds (again), life was chaotic and terrifying, and the stress was constant. Time felt like one never-ending period of life-or-death decisions interspersed with frantic research and fevered paper-writing. Days and nights had little meaning other than when to go to work and when to feed my kid.

We were spiraling in different ways, and it was evident that something needed to change.

This is not to say that falling deeper into the kink lifestyle “saved” us. It's still an uphill trek most days, but there are clear things for us to focus on. He keeps track of if and when I do my schoolwork and if I eat and take care of myself in general. I do my best to schedule out times to get my work done and eat at least twice a day. 

He has something (me and my unfocused ass) to check on routinely, and I have expectations placed on me to keep my unfocused ass, well, focused. It's new, but it's working so far. 

“I believe you should be going somewhere.” I turn and am not surprised by the smack to my right asscheek, but I yelp all the same.

Our eldest dog, Milo, is lounging on the bed when I get to the bedroom, so I gently lift him, placing kisses on his head the whole time, and sit him on the floor. He spends a moment glaring at me with outright betrayal but eventually shuffles off to, presumably, settle in on the couch and resume his morning nap. I hear my husband open the dog treat bin, Milo's happy yips, and then the sound of tiny feet heading to the living room. The bathroom door creaks as it opens, and there are toothbrush sounds, followed by water running. I'm counting to myself, trying not to move too much. It's always a struggle for me to lie still at any point when I have nothing on which to focus.

Not too long after, the bedroom door opens, and I see my husband leaning against the frame, arms crossed and smirk in place. 

"Squirming already, huh?" He pushes off the door and climbs onto the bed next to me, props his head up on an elbow, and rests on his side. "Can't hold still even for a few minutes?"

"You know I can't," I say, exasperated. I don't know what game is being played, but for some reason, I am feeling especially unrepentant. He grins and strokes a hand through my hair.

"I do." He leans down and kisses me fully, open-mouthed and filthy. My hands are immediately in his hair, grasping as he undoes me. His free hand is on my face, thumb rubbing against my cheek as he goes. When he finally leans back, it takes a few seconds for us to catch our breaths. I lay my head back against the pillows, but keep my hand in his hair, twirling the strands around my fingers as he slides his fingers down my throat and chest, tapping the heart hanging from the end of the collar.

“I also know that you have been in the mood to hint and antagonize me in lieu of asking for whatever it is that you want.” He fixes me with a gaze, but it isn’t hard to meet. He has mischief in his expression, but I’m sure I do too.

“Maybe I’m just feeling especially antagonistic.”

“Maybe.” He presses his mouth together concedingly. “Maybe not.” He slides the pads of his fingers past my nipple and continues his path southward.

“One last thing I know is that sometimes you’re direct with what you want and sometimes you aren’t. Which, I get. It’s nice to just relax back and let me guide the whole show.” He grins wickedly. “I like that too.” His fingers glide over my hip bone, so achingly close to where I’d like them to be. “But, I’d also like it if you would just be direct about what you want when it’s something specific. If I ask you, I expect an answer.”

“How do you know it’s not that I just want to lay back and let you take over?”

“Because I know you. When you want that, it’s because you need it. It’s not that today.” He removes his hand from me completely and looks down at me. “So be good and just ask for what you want.” And because he is right, and I am absolutely baiting him, I do not give him the answer he wants.

“I want you to touch me.” Something shifts in him, and his face loses some of the playfulness residing there a few seconds before.

“Right,” he sighs. Quicker than I can track, his hand is back on my throat and squeezing lightly. It’s not physically restrictive yet, but the motion itself is enough for me to gasp and lock eyes with him. With his hand still in place, he rolls over so he’s straddling me and traces my bottom lip with the thumb of his free hand. I dart my tongue out to swipe at it, and get a tap to my cheek for my trouble. It’s not hard enough to even register any amount of discomfort, but if I wasn’t completely zeroed in on what was happening before, I am all in now.

“Well since you’re purposefully failing at asking for what you want, I guess we’ll work on that today.” 

He moves off the bed completely and grabs the bed restraints that live between our mattress and boxspring. After ensuring that my hands are secured, he climbs back on the bed and smacks the inside of my left thigh. I gasp, surprised but elated. The stinging sends shivers through me and my legs break out in goosebumps.

“Spread your legs for me.” I do, and he kneels between them, hands resting on either of my thighs and then...just sits there. I wait as long as I’m able before speaking.

“...What are we doing?” I ask, tentatively.

“I’m waiting for you to ask for what you want.” Oh.

“I want you to touch me however you’d like to touch me.” Another smack registers a split second before I feel it, and I let out a short, high-pitched noise that it’s quite a squeak, but is definitely in the same family. 

“That’s not an answer.”

“I want you to be rough with me.” The pain slut in me is singing praises as I get another smack, harder this time. Hard enough to leave some angry redness behind.

“Is that not what I’m doing right now?” I get two more in quick succession, and as soon as I finish making whatever noise I keep making before breathing through the pain, I realize how soaking wet I am.

Would it have been easier to ask for this? To say, _‘Hey husband, wanna smack me around and then fuck me until I can’t remember my own name?’_ Yes. Do we both know what game I’m playing? Also, yes. Am I going to hold out as long as possible because I want to win? Again, yes.

“Not enough,” I say. I get slapped a few more times, and I can’t stop myself from saying ‘ow’ as I moan over them. My inner thighs are completely red and angry now, and I know they’ll likely bruise a little. I like that. My fleshy, spankable bits usually don’t bruise, and the redness fades quickly unless we use impact toys. So when we learned that he can leave marks behind from only his hand on my thighs however many years ago, we took full advantage.

He leans down over me and kisses my neck, biting lightly and sliding his teeth down my skin, making me shiver and groan. When he speaks, it’s low and directly into my skin.

“I’m going to eat you out until you can’t take it anymore. I’m going to _wreck_ you, but since you can’t seem to ask for anything specific, we’re going to move on to begging.” He moves down and slides his tongue around my left nipple, sucking and biting until I hiss and try to pull away. “So, when you want to come, you beg me to let you. Beg me like you mean it, because if you don’t, I’ll edge you on this bed all afternoon until you get it right.” I can’t help but moan at the words. They make me throb for him, and he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

He kisses his way down my body until he’s back between my legs, pressing them open and down onto the bed so I’m bared to him. I watch him through heavily-lidded eyes, trying not to squirm too much under his gaze. This time, it’s hard to hold it. He gives each thigh another smack, smirking at the way I try to pull my legs together, but can’t under his grip.

“Are you going to be good now?” I nod, trying very hard to stop from losing this game, but he has me, and he knows me. He’ll always win because in the end, I just want to come more than I want to win. One more smack, hard enough to leave a handprint behind, and words burst out.

“Oh god, yes, I’ll be good. Fuck, fuck,” I trail off, breathing deeply and staring back up at the ceiling.

“Good girl.” Those words from him will always have a physical effect on me, and without thinking about it, my pussy clenches around nothing and I drip onto the bed.

He sees, and continues smirking as he leans forward and licks a broad stripe up my pussy ending on my clit. I let loose with whatever noise wants to come out as he proceeds to wreck me in every way he knows I like until I’m sweating and pulling at the cuffs tying me to the bed. My hips buck seemingly on their own as I try to get his mouth closer and tighter on me, but he uses his hands to press my hips into the bed, trapping them there as he continues to fuck me with his tongue.

“How are you so good at this, fucking _hell_ ,” I break off into a moan as he sucks on my clit and slides two fingers inside of me to press against my g-spot. I try to breathe and relax my muscles, to allow myself to relax against this onslaught, but it’s no good.

“Oh fuck, can I come, please, please let me come?” The words tumble out, and he lifts his mouth away from me just enough to smile and say, “No, baby.” He continues his efforts, and I end up babbling as I clench my fists and curl my toes, trying to keep myself from hurtling over the edge.

“Please, please, please, oh my god. Please can I come? Please, fucking, let me, oh!” I break off as he nips at my clit, but then he pulls away.

“Not yet,” he teases, sing-song and infuriating. I let my head fall back against the pillows and take this reprieve to relax my muscles and ease the ache in my hands from clenching them so desperately. His fingers are still lightly thrusting but they aren’t rubbing so insistently at my g-spot anymore, so I can still think.

“Sounded like you needed a little break. The begging is coming along nicely, though.” His smug smile makes me want to deck him. I roll my eyes and make sure that I’m staring directly as him when I say, “Fuck you.”

The light in his eyes is instant. His smile widens and he tilts his head just slightly.

“Oh, really?” Some small, infinitesimal part of me tightens to be on the receiving end of that tone and expression. Not enough of me though.

“Yeah, fuck you.” He laughs and leans back down, biting into the reddest part of my thigh and making me jerk as my brain reminds me that _pain hurts and why do we like it, again?_

“Okay then.” He simply dives back in, using every single thing he knows I like against me. He sucks on my clit until it’s just on the edge of pain and then backs off to lap it with the tip of his tongue. All the while, his fingers return to my g-spot, pressing insistently and rubbing back and forth. Words don’t really work their way out this time, but noises do. He lets up on his coordinated attack long enough to remind me that, “Begging involves real words, baby.” I let out another string of pleas and curses, but he doesn’t answer, and I return to my defense of tightening every muscle in my body and breathing hard enough to make myself lightheaded.

Just when I think I am not going to be able to hold out, everything stops. He wipes his mouth with his hand and then lands a light smack right between my legs, chuckling as I groan and try unsuccessfully to close my legs.

I just breathe, eyes closed, as he watches me.

“What color?” When I do look at him, he looks happier that I’ve seen him in weeks. I know if I say stop, that we will, and he will still be happy after checking in with me.

But I really want to come, and I really don’t want to stop.

“Green.”

He undoes his pants and pulls his cock free, sliding it up and down my slit and stroking it to slick it up as he goes. “You beg as much as you want, but do not come until I tell you. When you are the very, very best you’ve ever been at begging, I’ll let you come. Probably.” He slips a pillow under my hips and lines himself up.

If my hands were free, I’d throw an arm over my face and breathe into the darkness, but I can’t, so I just have to _take_ it as he slides into me in one long thrust.

“Jesus christ, you feel so good, baby,” he grounds out after he’s all the way in. If I was capable of speech, I would say the same. It’s always a thrill to feel him slide in for the first time, even after all these years together. I know what’s to come. Memories compound and mix with the feeling of being so full, and I almost lose it. He hasn’t moved yet, but I know he can feel me tightening and fluttering around him.

“Ah, ah. Almost lost it right there, huh?” He pulls out slowly and thrusts back in just as slowly. I moan and clamp down on him, pulling noises from him as well. It helps a little to see him affected. But he picks up the pace, and any bit of leverage I had disappears. “Are you going to be a good girl and beg me for what you want? Or are you going to keep up with that attitude?” He plants one of his hands in the middle of my chest and rubs his thumb against my clit with the other. 

“Oh fucking god, please, _please_. Let me come, please, fuck.” The words fall out of my mouth without a thought or a plan. My body is on fire, and nothing else matters. My focus is on one point, and it’s him, dragging words and feelings out of me with his touch and his words and his voice dripping with sin.

“Not yet, baby. You can hold it. You’re a good girl, you can do it.” His thrusts are so fast now that my words turn into something unintelligible, I’m sure. The pressure on my chest as he presses me into the bed, pinned to the spot and unable to move, forced to accept only what I’m given, is too much. 

“ _Please!_ ” is all I can manage.

“Now. Come for me,” is all he says before I do. I spasm and come and clench down on him so tightly he curses and picks up his pace. He fucks me through it until it’s too much. My hearing temporarily bleeds out, and my eyes are wet from tears I don’t remember shedding. He is chasing his own orgasm now, as my body is one giant raw nerve. He’s speaking to me in a gravelly voice around his own moans and grunts.

“Good girl, so good for me. It’ll feel good again, just give it a minute. You’re gonna come again for me, and I’m going to fill you up.” He rubs circles against my clit again and I cry out, like the noise is being ripped from my chest. The overstimulation hurts, but right behind the pain is more pleasure than my brain knows what to do with. I come again, and he grounds out a few more curses as he loses his rhythm and follows me over the edge.

He leans over me and rests his head on mine, forehead to forehead as we breathe and twitch and groan. A moment later, he kisses me until I’m lightheaded again and we giggle stupidly, full of dopamine and endorphins.

It hurts when he pulls out, but he immediately uncuffs me and wraps himself around me, pulling the blankets over us. We drift, comfortable and warm and sated. Some time later, he kisses the back of my neck and whispers nice things into my ear. I turn to look at him and can’t imagine living without him. Without him looking at me like this every day.

“Are you okay?” He strokes his fingers through my hair and I sigh as he scratches lightly at my scalp.

“I’m good. How are you?” He smiles and a little of that mischief sneaks back into his eyes.

“I’m great. Just thinking about how I end up teaching lessons even on my days off.” I roll away from him and take the blankets.

“Oh my god, you’re fucking awful.” He laughs, hearty and full, and I look back at him just to see it.

“Wanna shower?” I do.

“Yes, please.” He gets me to my feet, and helps me into the bathroom. I shiver and wobble, but he holds onto me while the water heats up. He’s sturdy and comforting. Nice things are still being said, and I let them stroke the part of me that relishes the praise.

I feel less shaky and more grounded after the shower, and we dress and get ready to finish our day.

I’m not sure how he always knows what I need. I started out the morning baiting him because I wanted to get off. He gave me that in spades, but I feel less jittery than I did. No more urgency to get the next thing done and then the next thing and the next thing. I don’t ask him how he knew.

He already answered that. Because he knows me. And it’s fucking good to be known.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don't know. Our lives are hectic and scary and unpredictable, so why not fuck around with 24/7 power exchange elements? That's what we said. I hope you enjoyed this. If you did, leave a comment or come talk to me on Tumblr [here](http://agentxinfinity.tumblr.com). 
> 
> [Here](https://www.etsy.com/listing/774891544/infinity-y-lariat-heart-necklace?ref=user_profile&frs=1) is the day collar I referenced. It's great quality and looks very inconspicuous if that's your thing. 💜
> 
> (I put some more honorifics in this one despite getting a very gross recent message calling me "baby girl" on Tumblr. If you're planning on doing that, don't. I won't be answering anymore of those asks, even for an old-fashioned fuck off.)


End file.
